The Carnage Trilogy (Book 1): The Carnage [Unbending, Unyielding, Unforgiving]

by Birch, Matthew

  Well, that's all I wanted after travelling the world during my gap year. It was to relax by the lake with a dear friend. A bottle of beer between us and a few shots of whatever we could get our greedy hands on! Now, my friend Marcus is in shock, overwhelmed by guilt back at the ranger station. I, on the other hand, walk through the woods, paranoia dawning on me at every rustle of leafs, every snap of a stick and every little breath from those who are nearest to me. All these conflicting, but gentle sounds send me into overdrive. I feel like I am going to break down any minute now...

  As Ben put it when he unintentionally scared me earlier, he called it a 'mini freak out'. We are not alone. I know it. Nonetheless, having the feeling that I just know plays no factor so far. We've been hiking for at least fifteen minutes now, and the silence has been deafening. There's nothing other than the nature to keep us company. I try to not take it for granted; I am only cautious. It'd be a shame to die now after having come this far.

  We keep the formation Patrick had in mind, sticking to it as we journey deeper into the woods. Grimacing, I slip slightly, a puddle of mud beneath my feet. Ben walks by, helping me by keeping me steady. He offers me a grin that hides his mental battles. I know for a fact that I am not the only person who is scared of this whole endeavour of ours. All our lives are on the line, and after the sudden invasion of those creatures, who knows what is going to happen...?

  At the front of the group, Cody unkindly speaks his mind when he was never asked in the first place. This is not the first time that idiot has done this. “So tell me why this was better again?” His twitchy eyes spite his mud covered boots and jeans cuffs. He'd been judgemental of the route the entire time. Eventually, it had me wondering if we were wasting our time. I am placing my faith in Patrick; he is keeping us alive and has been so far.

  That’s if we are ignoring his mistakes with the flare of course.

  "The team I sent to the radio tower. I knew a guy who was with team one. He would have gone through here if the crash had already been present long before they departed" Patrick explains again, same tone, same bored look. Patrick hops a fallen, rotten log. "While training to become SWAT, our Commander decided a good team building exercise was to take us to this archery camp which isn't far from here. The idea was to build teamwork through fun. Except, my mate Jordan had other ideas when he sneaked in two bottles of whiskey. I don't remember one hundred percent how it ended, but I swear someone had an arrow in their leg by the end of the night" Patrick's face transforms into a smile, memories in his mind. Only, seconds later it disappears. "Jordan was part of team one. If he had the same problem we did - he would've have gone through here too. I know him like the back of my hand"

  "Are you sure?" Cody innocently judges behind his voice of confidence. Patrick nods just as confidently before taking a moment to look at the surroundings. "I'm sure mate, trust me" After gathering the local area in his head, Patrick takes a minute to round us up in a circle.

  "We're not far now. The first step is finding the archery camp; it's been years though since I was last there because... You know, I got kicked out" He smiles, a hint of childishness in his expression.

  Maya sighs, leaning her rifle against her shoulder. "Should we split up?" She asks, her free hand snaking down to the walkie-talkie Patrick had given her. "There's no harm in it with these" she points out.

  Patrick hums, rubbing his stubble for effect, making him look deeper in thought even though he just has dry skin. He’s probably itchy as dry skin can be irritating. I wouldn't know that though. I can't grow facial hair. I'm as smooth as a baby.

  Having finally made up his mind, Patrick organises us accordingly. Since we all couldn't get a radio each, we have to fit together right. So, Maya and Ben pair together. Patrick places Cody and me with him.

  “Hold up, I have an idea!” My mind is like a spring as a thought comes crashing down like a meteorite into my mind. Using my machete to make a mark on the tree, I point out, “if we get lost, then we can just look for the mark and wait there until someone else arrives should something go wrong” I feel genuinely quite proud of myself for thinking of that. But it could just be feeling happy I contributed. It’s difficult to feel relevant when you are the least capable person in a group of survivors. After a small round of praise from Ben and Patrick complimenting my good thinking, we take off. Searching for signs of the archery camp and team one. As we search, I take the opportunity to strike a conversation with Patrick. At first, it was simple. The basic, where were you when this happened, and so on. Important questions come last. I strike at the last moment, using the real reason I decided to be social during a time where I’d rather curl up in a ball and cry. "Could you teach me how to use the knife?"

  Patrick slows his pace, walking side by side with me. Intrigued, he replies happily, "Yeah, I'm happy to teach you. But what about gun practice?" He gets straight to the next point. Maya pops into my head. Her offer still stands from when we spoke in the SWAT truck.

  "I could teach you right now if you wanted?" He gleams at me. Maya is still fresh in my mind though. How enthralled she was with the idea of teaching me. It was our first step to getting along.

  Laughing it off, I play it cool. "Nah, the guns fine for the moment. Just the knife will do" Is it enough, will Patrick take the bait? Patrick cocks his head from side to side, gnawing on his lip. "I'm not sure about that Ed... A gun will serve you better than a knife" Crap; I need to throw him off me about this! I feel nervous as I hide the truth about why I don't want him to teach me about guns. Except, maybe it would impress Maya. Wait, why would I care? In fact, in this entire scenario, why should I care? I need to learn sooner or later anyway. The sooner option looks more appealing than the latter option.

  "Yeah, good point. Sure, teach me how to use a gun then" I smile, reaching for the weapon I have holstered. Patrick nods, looking at the handgun I have; his face lights up. A flash of awe runs over him. Like a child fascinated by a new toy, he gets excited by the weapon. To me, it's nothing special. Hell, it's just a pistol. But to him, it's a single action; semi-automatic, recoil operated pistol. He says its magazine fed, giving me seven shots at a time before needing to reload. The weapon itself has been in use since world war one apparently, the M1911 pistol has been used for decades and still does to this day. However, what I have is a modernised version. "I bet Wilson gave you that, didn't he?" He asks with a smile, eyes focused in the distance at Cody who has come to a stop. I chuckle, "Yeah, Wilson gave me this one."

  Patrick's glee dies out. The man next to me turns to stone. Freezing up likes it's the middle of winter when we're in the midst of July. Taking the radio, Patrick hits a button and speaks into it. His voice deadpanned. "We found it-" He pauses, waiting for Maya to respond. Seconds later, the radio buzzes to life - a robotic sounding Maya talk’s back. "I hear ya', where are you?"

  "East of the position where Ed made the mark, over" And with that, he clips the radio back on his tight, heavy gear dark navy blue SWAT jacket before rushing to where Cody stares blankly at the head pinned to the tree. The blood is dry. The head is a mess; claw marks all over it. One eye is missing from its socket, the left part of the skull has been bashed in, and the jaw hangs loose. Agape and almost like the last thing this person had, was a huge shock from something. Patrick doesn't waste time, moving away from the head with an arrow between its eyes. We walk down a muddy slope, find a small bloody path. Said path of dirt and mud, becomes that of red stained gravel. Ammo shells litter the floor. "We're here" Patrick whispers as we approach a single, large building surrounded by torn down fences and open areas for archery practice. There's nothing left...

  Cody is quiet, eyes twitching as we search the area as thoroughly as possible. Team one was here, in fact. Patrick says this might have even happened overnight. The scenes are disturbing, leaving us all speechless. Team one had created mini barricades, having placed them against all potential entrances and sealed off the exits in a hurry. Torn, eaten, ripped apart and toyed with, the
remains of team one leaves an unsettling sight. I go numb again, unable to take my eyes off the organs of one man whose belly was only split open. He seems different, having been dragged to a corner and left there with his intestines spilling out. Untouched, having bled to death...

  Rather strange, you'd think he'd be torn, eaten, and whatever just like everyone else. But no, he's just sitting here?

  Using the hilt of his shotgun, Patrick smashes through one half battered down door and ventures inside. Past the open area of the deceased into where team one might've made their final stand.

  Flipping a switch on his jacket turns on a small, attached flashlight, giving us an insight into the contents of the ominously dark building. We find Inside is clean, untouched.

  Except for the gym.

  One large room, dedicated to incredible looking equipment that would be a body enthusiasts dream come true is ruined because of a single, gaping hole in the ceiling. The light from outside catches my eye and I stare in awe. Patrick stands right underneath the hole, a frown on his face. "I don't understand..." He whispers, unsure of what we're looking at exactly. Cody finally speaks up, joining him in the rough circle of light. "Why are you still looking? Team one is dead?" Speaking harshly without realising, Cody is shoved back into a weight rack, sending dumbbells scattering all over the concrete ground. The weights batter against the concrete floor, shooting echoes all throughout the building. Cody tumbles slightly, grunting and resisting the urge to push the much stronger, dominant man back. I tense up; looking at the door we came through. Nothing happens, luckily.

  "I'm still human! All I wanted to know is if Jordan made it..." Patrick trails off ruefully, eyelids drooping sadly.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

  "Doesn't matter" Patrick shuts off the conversation, face suddenly made of stone as he speaks on the radio again now. "We've investigated the building, no survivors," He says it like it's nothing. Working in a job with his line of work, losing people is something Patrick is most likely not a stranger to. Probably not the first time he's lost a friend...

  It does not make this any easier though for him. Especially since it sounded like he and this Jordan guy were close. Cody's forehead creases, he seems annoyed that he couldn't properly apologise. Moving on quick, Cody takes off. Leaving the hole on the roof behind him as he heads for the exit.

  "We're waiting outside... Area's secure" I can hear the distress in her voice when she finally radios back. They've seen it all as well. Not a beautiful sight...

  "I'm sorry, can you leave me for a moment. I need a minute" Kindly, the broken looking man asks me one last request before we move on from this place. Kneeling down, he places his shotgun on the ground carefully before wrapping his black-gloved hands around another handgun, one like mine but with its own specially made design. Pulling the weapon out from under one of the various machines here, the saddened Patrick seems like a completely different person as his eyes inspect the weapon thoroughly. "This was his..." In his own world now, Patrick forgets am I even there with him. I accept his request from before without another word, and I take myself away from this strange place. The last I see is Patrick eyeballing the ceiling’s hole one last time.

  Wandering through the hallways until I leave the darkness, I step outside to meet everyone else who waits patiently.

  When I greet Maya, I notice the weapon in her hands. Having ditched the rifle, (She still has it on her back) she opted for-

  Well, I don't know what it is. It pulls her down a little, though she hides the fact she is carrying way too much now. Ben takes the time to roll his eyes at her. Nice, it's not me this time that is getting eye rolled at for once!

  "Looking a little heavy there" I jest, poking fun at her. Maya huffs, "It's not heavy, idiot."

  Cody pipes up. "It's an M4 Carbine. Professionally used by the SWAT teams here" He explains, giving us background knowledge for no reason but hey, I welcome it. Maya looks surprised, looking up at the sky and taking the information into her brain. "So, you just saw it lying around and thought you'd take it huh?"

  Maya sticks her nose in the air. "Finders keepers," She says before going on to explain that it's better than her rifle. Cody bumps into me, "Stick with that machete. Trust me" he whispers into my ear, sending a chill down my spine. My mouth hangs open like a fool as I think of something smart or witty to say. Nothing comes to mind. Cody's eye stops twitching, and he just looks at me with a smile. "First rule of these creatures is sound will attract em'. I know that flare did nothing but trust me. Sound always bring em' running" I still can't think of a reply. My mind all befuddled because of Cody's sudden unneeded but useful advice.

  Turning to M4 Carbine girl, he plays around. "That weapon will grant you the same death these fellas got" Cody peers at all the death around us, a look of encouragement on his face as he throws advice in all directions.

  Patrick emerges seconds later from the building, a look of dread on his face. "I'm sorry for taking so long; you all have a right to know... I went to the roof and found Jordan. Whatever caused the hole in the ceiling dragged him through it."

  Chapter 10 - Two Types

  Ed

  The towering metal structure is flawlessly intact. No structural damage whatsoever. Little hope resides in Patrick now, after the weird discovery at the archery camp. The walk was only ten minutes before we got to the radio tower. It was seeable from the camp, so we had a bearing on where to go. No problems either, which is a plus. Doesn't change the fact that whatever is left inside Patrick's heart has been replaced with this unending pit of regret. He's gone unbelievably quiet. His leadership seemingly diminished. It was him who sent Jordan there. Patrick's disappointment is looming over him like a dark rain cloud. He blames himself; he did give the order to investigate originally. He called the shots and got people killed. He says it from time to time, how he should have been there. How he could have helped or better...

  How he could be dead, and they could've lived. It’s like a weird form of selfless self-loathing.

  "Patrick?" I ask meekly. Snapping out of his grief, Patrick puts on that same brave face he always does. Tough, calm and collected. He needs to be strong. He already knows we look to him as the leader. Without him, I don't know what we would have all done in his absence. "What?" he replies indifferently? His mind is in the situation but his heart is elsewhere. Personal intentions boil beneath the surface. A wave of anger threatens to break down his walls like a tsunami. Patrick hasn't made much sense so far, but I've heard his mumbles. Something about, her? Someone close to him is still out here, and he did not see her remains at the archery camp. Maybe he has a shred of hope left in him after all?

  "Are you okay?" Maya's asks kindly, leaving the formation to walk side by side with Patrick. Her hardened face and stony eyes soften, kindness shining through. Something that has seemed difficult for her to grasp thus far but she's getting better. I get the feeling Maya is the introverted type; Ben told me they didn't speak at all when it was just them. Even when he tried breaking the ice to create conversation to rid them of boredom, she would always find a way to lock herself away. Patrick seems hurt; her words sting him, almost. I see his face scrunch up. How badly he wants to tell the truth. The need to just let everything he's bottling up inside, out. So that people understand what is really inside his one track mind.

  My Nan used to tell me there are two types of men when it comes to handling anger. There are those who let it out straight away, which allows them to get a grip on things earlier, allowing them to cool off quicker even if the initial rage is devastating. At least when it's over, it's over. Then, there is the type of man who bottles it all up, holding it inside and keeping a stable expression the entire time. Making it difficult to see through to his inner thoughts. He'll be smiling when he's sad, laughing when he's mad. This type of man can get dangerous and quick, for he will always be more threatening than the man who lets out all the anger at once.

  At least, that's what she told me anyway.


  I suppose it depends really, although, Patrick seems to fit in well with her teachings. I wonder if I should butt in, offer my sympathy and help to our leader. Imagine the thoughts in his head right now.

  Is she okay? What if she is hurt? She can't be dead.

  But, what if I had done things different? This is the type of question that keeps any person pondering their darkest thoughts for hours without end.